Who We Are
by egyouppt
Summary: Because she's Rachel and he's Finn and that's just the way it is.


**_A/N:_**_ okay so this takes place during Blame It on the Alcohol it inspired me to write when I'm trying not to, haha. anyway, I hope it's not disappointing or anything._

_disclaimer: don't own Glee. I do own any typos though._

* * *

"Dude, please?"

"All right," Kurt sighed. "I'll be back in an hour or so to pick you up."

"Awesome, thanks!" Finn clapped his step-brother on the shoulder and told him he'd see him later.

Everyone else had gone home and Kurt definitely needed to take a super drunk Blaine home, but Finn wanted to make sure Rachel was all right.

He made his way back into Rachel's dad's Oscar room or whatever. Her party had been a success, at least on a "let's see how wasted we can all get!" level. Um, and well, she was _trashed._ He sighed a little. It was kinda funny at first (except for maybe the whole making out with Blaine thing—he just wasn't digging that, but can you blame him. And like, okay, he'd had to kiss Tina and Brittany, but still. Both of those had been, you know, _quick,_ and not showy-offy) but he was pretty sure Rachel might have went a tad overboard.

He linked his arms under hers from where she was sitting on the floor, giggling, and lifted her up. "Come on, Drunky McDrunk," he said quietly. "Let's get you to bed. You can worry about cleaning up tomorrow."

She hiccupped and stumbled forward and Finn rolled his eyes. At this rate, she'd fall walking up the stairs and not remember how to get up. He'd been to parties and stuff before, even been shit-faced. But she was approaching blackout drunkenness and it worried him. Gently, he picked her up, carrying her in a sort of sloppy, awkward bridal style, snorting a little when she looked up at him like he was some big, strong, heroic knight (not that he was gonna tell her _not_ to think of him like that, of course. It was sort of a nice image, as long as he didn't _actually_ have to ride scary horses or wear itchy armor or whatever—that would be kinda lame).

"Finn," she murmured.

He glanced down at her, arching an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

But she just smiled and continued looking around, hiccupping again. He placed her carefully on her bed after moving the covers down and pursed his lips.

She really should drink some water. Ugh, and brush her teeth. Finn sat down next to her and said, "I'm just gonna run down and get you a glass of water, okay? Don't fall asleep yet."

"Vakka!" she insisted. "No wa'er. Mmmnm, or the brae-y." She smiled goofily up at him, propping herself up.

He sighed again. "Rachel," he said seriously. "You definitely don't need any more alcohol tonight. Just sit tight, okay?"

He quickly exited her room and went to the kitchen, observing the mess they'd made tonight. It was weird. He didn't drink at all (which, okay, was a little lame, but whatever) but it was still mostly fun. Except when he would look over and see Quinn staring longingly at Sam, who'd been sucking face with Santana pretty much the whole night. It wasn't so much that he was _jealous_ of Sam as it was just _awkward._ Because then Quinn would just give him this weird look, like she was expecting him to come over and talk to her or something. And maybe he should have, just to like be nice or something. But like he'd told Rachel, Quinn was an _angry_ drunk (probably because she was an angry _person_) and really, he thought he'd had enough of her unpleasantness, even without the drunk part. So maybe when she felt like being nice again at some point or something. He guessed it didn't matter that much either way.

It also wasn't all that awesome when a wasted Blaine came up to him to rave about how _awesome_ Rachel is at kissing—yeah, like he didn't know. Like, when it was just Blaine being drunk and weird and talking about how tall Finn was, well it was uncomfortable, but it was like the bearable uncomfortable, you know? But with the whole kissing thing, Blaine was, like, describing her _tongue_ and stuff. _Not_ cool, dude.

He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water quickly before returning to Rachel's bedroom, noticing she'd actually listened to him. That was heartening, at least. He thrust the glass in her direction, looking at her pointedly. "Drink this, Rachel." But when she reached for the glass and almost spilled it, he picked sat down next to her and held the glass to her lips, watching her as she sipped it slowly.

When she finished, she looked up at him with bright eyes and smiled. "Thansf Finn."

He gave her a little half smile. "Don't uh, just don't try to talk right now, Rachel. You kinda just sound like a zombie or a…mushroom. Or something. Right. Look, you need to brush your teeth and stuff, so come on." He offered his hand and she took it, barely able to keep herself from falling into his chest for the eighty millionth time tonight.

Oh man, when she started that stuff earlier about asking if she'd made up their relationship and all, that was…bad. He didn't know what to say or worse, what to _feel._ He hoped she didn't think he'd been mean when he told her it wasn't cool to hang all over him like that. But there'd been a line, you know? And they'd both been respecting it—respecting each other. Just 'cause she'd been drunk didn't mean there were suddenly no standards. And frankly, it had saddened him a little to see her so desperate and so unlike herself again. And he really didn't want her to do or try to do something she would regret, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to end up doing something _he'd_ regret either. Like when she'd said that stuff about putting their feelings aside and focusing on their mission and stuff, that was awesome. And he'd been really proud of her, even if her song had, you know, sucked and everything. Still, it was nice to see her so driven again.

And honestly, he _liked_ being her friend. He wanted to make sure they _could_ be friends. He didn't really know what was in store for the future—that was kinda Rachel's department—but regardless, it wasn't like he and Rachel could just _not be_ part of each others' lives. And he'd considered not going to her party, but in the end, he'd realized he _wanted_ to. He wanted to just be able to hang out with her again. And not going would have made him a coward and he didn't wanna be that guy anymore. He was finally getting to a place in his life where he started to feel comfortable in his own skin. Why mess it up. And yeah, then Kurt had sorta blackmailed him into being the DD and um, that was it. No further discussion needed on the details of _that_ one. Ahem.

He led her into the bathroom and watched as she somehow managed to brush her teeth, cleaning up the sink while she climbed back into her bed.

Smiling a little, he brushed some hair off her face and whispered, "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

She nodded drowsily, pulling at the covers and sighing heavily. You know, Finn used to imagine sometimes about Rachel getting drunk, mostly Rachel getting drunk with _him_ though. There wasn't a house party or kissing gay dudes or anything like that. Like, he was glad everyone had fun at Rachel's party, he really was. He wanted people to be able to look at her and see her like he did. He just didn't entirely understand why it took alcohol and shit to make everyone realize that she was…well,_ awesome._ You know?

It didn't take her long to drift off to sleep and Finn didn't find that surprising at all. He remembered the first time he'd gotten drunk like this—he'd been out like a light (that's the saying, isn't it?). He just hoped she'd at least be able to remember _some_ stuff from the night. He didn't like the idea of her blacking out and stuff. It was creepy and not anything he'd ever associate Rachel with. He pursed his lips. He guessed she was full of more surprises than she ever let on. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing.

He stroked her hair for a moment before he received Kurt's annoyed text message that he'd been waiting outside for an hour and Finn better be outside in the next two minutes or he'd be staying at Rachel's for the night. And as much as a small (re: humongous) part of him really wanted to stay with Rachel tonight (or maybe forever—not that he could bring himself to admit it most of the time) he knew it wouldn't be good for either of them,_ especially_ if she didn't remember what happened.

He quickly shut off the lights and met Kurt outside, jumping into the passenger's seat and ignoring his step-brother's hostile glare. "If you two wanted some time to resolve your unabashed sexual tension, you could have just said so," Kurt told him as he backed out of the driveway.

Finn was sure if he'd been chewing gum or something, he would have choked. Well, he nearly did so anyway. "What? _What?_ Jesus, Kurt. _No._" He puffed out his chest. "I was helping her drunk self get to bed without falling down or up the stairs and breaking her neck. Jesus," he muttered again.

"If you say so," Kurt said lightly. Finn opened his mouth to speak again, but Kurt beat him to it. "I don't want the gritty details, actually. And I mean that regardless of what may or may not have gone on up there. If you want to talk about it, we'll talk tomorrow, I promise. But right now I'm tired and I need to make sure Blaine doesn't pee in my bed."

"He's sleeping in your bed?" Finn raised an eyebrow, mumbling something about who's doing the nasty now under his breath before realizing he didn't really wanna think about his step-brother having sex. Or, like, _anyone_ having sex, besides himself and stuff, but that was different, wasn't it? Whatever.

Kurt promptly ignored him and continued driving; Finn laughed silently.

* * *

The next day, Finn made a point of driving to Rachel's house. To check on her, obviously. Anyway, when he rang the doorbell, Rachel looked confused, but then smiled pleasantly. "Come in, Finn," she said, holding the door open.

He glanced around at all the trash all over the place. "You haven't cleaned up yet?"

"Do you want anything to drink?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I, uh, no thanks, Rachel." He frowned, unsure of what kind of drink she was referring to. She stumbled a little and his frown deepened. Was she still drunk? What the hell? But before he could ask, she looked at him curiously.

"Did you need something, Finn? Did you leave something here last night? I'm not sure where it would be, as I was rather inebriated—thank you, by the way, for helping me last night—"

"Yeah, no problem. Any time. Are—"

"Or did Kurt send you over here? I know he's probably not happy with me at the moment, and I am sorry for that, but something _happened_ between me and Blaine and I'm just going to explore it for a while. Are you sure you don't want something to drink, Finn?"

He stared at her. What. "_What?_ You—what? No, I'm good. Rachel, are you still drunk or what?"

He had no idea what was going on. Like, it wasn't as if he was the most informed guy in general, but this was taking it to a whole new level. Was she even aware of what she was telling him? And if she was, how the _fuck_ had he missed it?

"Still, again," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "What's the difference?"

"Wait, wait." He held his hands up. "You mean you're drunk _again?_ Rach, what is this?" he asked her softly, not even noticing that he'd reverted back to calling her by her nick name.

She sighed a little and his jaw clenches involuntarily. "I have a date with Blaine later today."

What—what the fuck? "I…you...isn't he, you know, _gay?_"

She only shrugged. "I thought so, but he said yes. So I suppose we'll see." She said it nonchalantly, like it wouldn't make Finn feel like shit or something. And okay, he knew that she probably felt bad when he was going after Quinn and stuff and it hurt him to know he was hurting her, honestly. But this felt so much more…_deliberate._

"Okay…" Seriously, this was just weird. And he'd just wanted to make sure she was okay, but apparently she wasn't concerned about it. She was just drinking up to get ready for her date with _Blaine,_ as in the guy his step-brother was crushing on. Awesome. He sort of wondered what happened to her. A few days ago she had been all sweet and innocent and focused. And now she was making out with gay men and going on dates with them and drinking all the time. It wasn't right. And he wasn't really feeling it. But he knew he didn't have a right, really, to say much about it. And it wasn't like he could tell her she couldn't date other guys (whether they were gay or not). So he didn't say anything else.

She was busy pouring herself another glass of…something and Finn thought he was going to be sick. "Look," he began. "I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay. I have practice soon though, so I'll, you know, see you later and stuff. Bye!" He waved quickly and left, not looking back to see the confused look on her face.

A date with Blaine? _Seriously?_ He wondered how Kurt felt about that. It was kinda low of her to just date the dude he'd been trying to get with for, like, ever too. He shook his head as he made his way home.

He didn't lie. He really _did_ have practice today, but not for another couple hours yet. Mostly he didn't want to be around her right now like he thought he did. It would have been one thing, you know, for her to have gotten drunk last night and thanked him and then he thought maybe they could hang out for a bit. Even if it was weird, last night had proved to him that he still missed just being with her. He would have helped her clean up and stuff. But now he knew if he stayed, he'd just have to watch her ogle over and pick out outfits for her date with another guy. Yeah, no thanks. _Pass._

He groaned in frustration as he pulled into his driveway. All he knew was that life was really messed up. And mostly, there wasn't much you could do about it.

* * *

"Dude, are you all right?"

Kurt snorted.

"If this is about Rachel and Blaine—" Finn started.

"Oh, God. You _know_ about that?" He looked horrified.

Finn didn't quite know what to say to that. "I'm not mad so much as I just don't _understand,_" Kurt admitted. "I mean, it's all fine and dandy that they're attracted to each other when they're drunk, but in no way does that mean they're relationship material."

Finn nodded. If you had to be drunk to like somebody, didn't that mean you probably didn't actually like them anyway? At least romantically. He talked with Kurt a little longer before grabbing a shower and heading to bed. He was definitely getting a headache.

When he arrived at school on Monday, he was even more confused than ever. Everyone was still drunk? How much did they _drink?_ Jesus.

He tried asking Puck about it, but his friend just shook his head, laughing a little.

Finn didn't really understand how "Blame It" would fit into the assembly, but no one ever really listened to what he thought anyway, so it was whatever. And it wasn't really a bad song, he guessed. And he got to wear an awesome leather jacket, so that was cool and everything.

He sighed when Rachel started talking about…whatever it was she was talking about. Hearing Rachel say that there were no dangers of drinking as long as you had a safe, designated driver made his stomach drop. When did this even happen? Had her date with Blaine been good enough that she wanted to drink all the time or something? When was the last time she'd been sober? And…and she was hanging all over _Mike_ and Jesus.

He wasn't jealous, okay? He just…this wasn't Rachel. And he just wanted to know what had happened to the Rachel that he knew and lo—he just wanted to know why she was acting all different and stuff, all right? Was that a crime? No.

Finn's brow furrowed when everyone started giving Mr. Schue crap. Not that he was gonna say he'd never drink again or whatever, but he was pretty sure an adult drinking was kinda different since it was, like, _legal_ and stuff. But then again, he guessed seeing people drinking it all the time kinda influenced kids to do it. Even Puck said that the commercials during NASCAR were about beer. (Wait, Puck watched NASCAR? He had to remember to give him shit for that one later. NASCAR? Really? He shook his head).

But he did contribute to the collective groan when Mr. Schue announced they would spend the whole day thinking about songs to sing for the assembly. Didn't everyone know by now that thinking wasn't his forte ("Actually, Finn," he remembered Rachel saying once, "the correct pronunciation for the word you're referring to is _fort._ The accent on forte comes from the Italian word, in music, meaning loud, derived from the Latin word _fortis_." He didn't know why he remembered that, but he did. And if he had an excuse to use "ten dollar" words, then he would because people thought he was stupid enough as it was).

The rest of the day passed mostly in a blur. He didn't see Rachel, but he vaguely wondered if she was just throwing up somewhere before grimacing. He wasn't trying to be cruel to her, honestly! Tapping his pencil against the paper on which he was supposed to be taking notes (about some book or other that the class was supposed to read, but he wasn't paying attention) he noticed Quinn looking at him sadly. It was weird because they really hadn't talked much since Sam dumped her.

It sounded awful, but now that she was like, "on the market," or whatever Rachel called it, the appeal kind of died down. But it wasn't just that. He didn't think Quinn actually loved Sam, or at least not really, but he guessed she must have cared about him though, because she spent a lot of time looking at him and Santana all mopey-like. And he didn't wanna get in the middle of it or take advantage of it. He can admit what he'd done—encouraging her to cheat and all—wasn't cool. Like, really wasn't. And it really wasn't him either.

He dropped his pencil. Holy shit. He was totally, like, having an epiphalee or…yeah, that wasn't right. Epiphany. Because Rachel wasn't really being herself, right? And as much as he didn't like it, he needed to let her have this period of out of characterness, seeing as he'd gone through his and wasn't really sure where he stood with Quinn now either. But if it lasted too long, he _would_ say something to her. Like, he was kinda moving on with Quinn, right? Wait, that came out wrong.

He was, like, over his resurfaced feelings for Quinn. Or at least he wasn't gonna do anything about them if they were still there (he didn't really know what he felt most of the time, 'cause he spent a lot of time just being confused and stuff) because he was just tired of it. If Rachel wanted to do a little living, he guessed he would just have to find a way to deal with it for a while. She would come back eventually, right? And so would he, right?

Yeah. _Yeah._ Totally. Of course!

He should have thought of it sooner.

* * *

Finn eyed Kurt warily as his step-brother handed him a glass of warm milk and plopped down on his bed. "Are you all right?" he asked for the second time in like two days.

"It's this whole—"

"Rachel and Blaine thing," Finn finished. "Right. Shoulda known. Sorry."

Kurt laughed a little. "Sorry, I'm being repetitive, aren't I?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but I was probably the same way after Rachel and I broke up."

"You were," Kurt told him.

Finn snorted and half-listened as Kurt relayed all the _wonderful_ details Rachel had supplied about her date with Blaine. Yeah, 'cause he, like, _cared_ and stuff. Jesus. There were a few things Finn didn't particularly wanna know about. And Rachel's experiences with other dudes fell neatly into that category.

"Blaine is mad at me anyway," he finished.

"Why?"

Kurt sighed dejectedly. "I may or may not have been rude and condescending to him when he told me he accepted this date with Rachel. I mean, I've talked to him since then, but it hasn't been the same. I was a little insensitive," he admitted.

Finn decided he couldn't give Kurt too much crap for it 'cause he knew he had a major case of foot-in-the-mouth. And really, he sucked ass at giving advice, so he wasn't sure what Kurt was expecting him to say. Thankfully, his step-brother saved him from having to say anything by speaking up again. "This isn't good for Rachel either, but she insists there's something between them and to prove it to me, she's going to kiss him. While they're both sober."

Finn felt like he'd been punched in the gut. True, he hadn't been happy about the prospect of Blaine and Rachel before, but at least then he could pass it off as two drunken teenagers. But now? Damn it.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said quickly. "I forgot you probably didn't want to know about that."

Finn sent him a withering look before shrugging. "S'cool, dude."

He chewed on his lip as they sat there awkwardly, until Kurt announced he was going to bed. Finn nodded and told him good night.

Falling back against his bed, his hands under his head, he wondered if life would ever be easy again. He understood what adults always told him and stuff. That life has to be hard or it wouldn't make the good stuff worthwhile. But he wasn't sure how much of that took effort or just learning to deal with what life threw your way. He probably should work on it more, really. But he didn't really know how. He could ask Rachel, he supposed, as that was what he would normally do, well pre-break up and all, but if she needed to have this period of "independence" (or, more accurately, time to be drunk constantly and kiss random people) then there wasn't much he could do about it, unfortunately. It wasn't like he could just go up to her and be like, "Rachel, babe, hey. Let's get back together."

He wasn't denying the possibility that someday they _would_ get back together. He knew from experience that life never went the way you planned it and things could just…_happen._ But he knew they weren't ready yet, together and individually. He didn't mind being her friend until they found themselves, though. And in being her friend, he would let her have her journey of self-discovery and try to be tactful (well, as much as Finn could ever be tactful) about it and just be there for her when she needed him.

He nodded to himself resolutely. That was something he could do.

Wasn't it?

* * *

He really, _really_ doubted that this was gonna go well. Every time they performed some kind of riot broke out, albeit usually it ended with people cheering and stuff. Which kinda begged the question, if everyone cheered and thought their performances were awesome, why did the glee club get slushied and bullied and shit all the time? It didn't make any sense to him.

His brow arched when Rachel appeared, carrying a huge jug of…something he probably didn't want to think about was in. Then she went into this spiel about Broadway singers and whiskey and damn, her pants were _really_ tight. And the _boots_. He cleared his throat.

But he took his shot, wincing as the alcohol/kool-aid/Oreos(really, Rachel? Oreos?)/cough syrup combination slid down his throat. And it was, you know, _gross._

He wondered absently if the glee club would ever perform a song at an assembly that was actually appropriate as the curtain opened. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this song kinda sucked. Like, Brittany sounded good and everything, but the…_song._ His stomach felt weird, but he kept dancing (the word "dancing" used loosely in his case). Until Brittany upchucked on Rachel's _face._

Ouch. That had to suck. He was pretty sure that wasn't a normal color for puke either. And then Santana did it too and everyone was sick and he was surprised he didn't lose it just watching, like seriously. It was _nasty._

"Drink responsibly, everyone," Brittany mumbled.

Silence. Everyone looked at them, stunned. And scared too probably. He rubbed a hand over his head. Okay, if it wasn't a riot, it was _some_ kind of disaster.

He glanced around the room as they stood in Principal Figgins' office. The _last_ thing he needed was to be suspended. And how was anyone going to take glee club seriously now? And man, his mom would be _so_ disappointed. And—and…this day kinda sucked. That was the truth of the matter. He wasn't loving it.

Wait…what? Figgins was…_congratulating_ them. Holy shit, he totally thought those were special effects. Finn couldn't believe their luck, even if his stomach was still lurching a bit at the thought of everyone throwing up. _And_ they got coupons for frozen yogurt (though thankfully he was able to keep his big mouth from saying that frozen yogurt was for pansies. Whatever, he could give it to his mom or something, right?).

They filed into the choir room and Finn took a seat next to—Rachel. Okay, well, he could deal with this. It wasn't like they weren't friends anymore, right?

And—"I for one, am _never_ drinking again," Rachel told the club. "Being thrown up on just _does_ something to a person." And he couldn't help but smile a little because he knew the real Rachel was back and it gave him some confidence, 'cause like, now the real _Finn_ could be back too, right? He wanted him to be.

He cocked his head as Mr. Schue told them he was going to stop drinking. And he found himself actually listening to what his teacher was saying for the first time in a while, since usually when Mr. Schue talked as of late, it was just to make people feel bad or something. Whatever. Anyway, he guessed it made sense for none of them to drink again until Nationals and to be honest; he probably would have at least lightened up on his drinking anyway. But he signed the pledge form thing, not understanding why Sam seemed so excited to have Mr. Schue's phone number.

But Finn thought and definitely hoped the Mr. Schue he'd always thought of as his mentor was on his way back. Because that would be awesome. And he couldn't resist looking over at Rachel as she brought up her songwriting. "What about after we win Nationals?" he asked.

"I'm buying up sparkling cider," Mr. Schue answered finally.

He looked over and Rachel and grinned and she returned the sentiment. Things were on their way to being back to whatever kind of normal they could be, he was sure of it. He guessed that was just how things worked out sometimes.

* * *

"Finn, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He turned around to find Rachel striding after him, rolling her backpack down the hallway.

"Sure," he said easily. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me on Satruday."

He frowned and looked over at her. "You already did that that. I mean, you're welcome though."

She smiled at him as he held the door open for her. "Not properly. I mean, I was _smashed,_ as they say. And as embarrassing as it is for me to admit it, I practically _threw_ myself at you." He noticed that her face turned a little red and it took a lot of effort to not tell her that she looked adorable.

"Yeah," he agreed good-naturedly. "You were pretty drunk."

"It would have been really easy for you to have gotten _way_ past 'second base' if you wanted to. You could have easily taken advantage of the situation and then blamed it on me and I probably wouldn't have remembered the details. But you didn't," she said quietly.

He stopped walking and glanced at her. "Why would I have? What kinda guy would I be if I had, Rachel?" It actually kinda hurt that she might have thought he would have taken advantage of her to "get what he wanted" or whatever, but he didn't tell her that.

"I don't know," she answered. "But a different kind of one than the one you are. And Finn? I'm really glad that you're not." She gave him this soft smile and he smiled right back because she was Rachel and he was Finn and that was just how it was.

They would never _not_ be part of each others' lives. He'd known it before, but now it was pretty concrete. "I'm glad you're who you are too, Rachel."

They continued walking to the parking lot. "Can I ask you a question, Finn?"

This didn't sound good. He sighed inwardly. "Sure."

"Where did you learn the word archetype?"

He…okay, what? "Uh, what?"

"I remember you explaining the different _archetypes_ of drunks to me, even though I don't remember specifically what they all were. But I didn't know you were familiar with the word. Not that I think you're unintelligent. I just wasn't expecting it to come up in the conversation!"

She looked at him expectantly and he burst out laughing. "I don't remember. It was in like some book or something. Or maybe the internet." He laughed again and this time she joined in. "I'm sorry, by the way," he added quietly. "If I came off as mean and stuff when I called you a needy girl drunk."

She shook her head. "No, you were right. Sure, you could have used nicer phrasing, but it wouldn't have gotten through to me in my state of mind. I was out of line."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "But it's okay. We've both moved past it, right?"

"Right." She gestured toward her car and gave him a quick hug.

"Wait!" he called. She turned around and faced him again. "Do I get to ask you a question now?"

She looked hesitant and then nodded. He figured if the way it worked was that they would always affect each other and be there for each other and need each other, they could both ask questions right? Because he _did_ know the way it worked and in Finn Hudson logic, it just made the rest make sense.

"Finn?" she asked when he didn't say anything.

Oh right. He had a habit of just talking in his head a lot. He would work on it.

"What exactly were you _wearing_ Saturday night?"

They both burst out laughing again.

And she was Rachel and he was Finn and that was just the way it was.

* * *

_so, yes? no? let me know your thoughts and thanks in advance. and everything is finchel and nothing hurts! :)_

_Reviews = love. _


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